


Evens and Odds (Call It In The Air)

by sketchbook henry (bessemerprocess)



Category: Glee, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Surviving the Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/sketchbook%20henry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson wins the Hunger Games, and wishes he hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evens and Odds (Call It In The Air)

**Author's Note:**

> As Glee is now a closed canon, and one I no longer write in, I'm uploading story chunks that can stand on their own. Originally written in Dec 2011, this is a Glee/Hunger Games fusion where-in Blaine wins his Hunger Games, and then was going to go on to mentor Kurt.

Blaine Anderson remembers being half trapped under the rock slide, his whole body throbbing with pain. He remembers the District 3 boy approaching, knife out. He remembers throwing the rock as hard as he could. There isn't anything after that, but he isn't dead, and he isn't in the arena. He is in a bed. A little too soft, with clean white sheets. The walls are white, too, and the sun is shining in through the window. 

Maybe he is dead. Maybe this is what happens after. He’s not in pain, after all, and he remembers falling halfway down the mountain that had made up the majority of the arena. He remembers the sick crunch as his leg broke the first time, and he remembers waking up after and knowing he’d be dead in an hour, even if the only other tribute left didn't find him first. 

“Good morning, Blaine.” He doesn't recognize the man, though he’s dressed up like a Capital doctor. 

“Good morning.” It’s always safer to be polite if you don’t know what to do. Will had told him that, and he’s not out on the District Nine streets, so he follows Will’s rules. 

“We repaired both of your legs and you left arm, good as new. There may be some stiffness at first, but you’ll be assigned a physical therapist to your prep team,” the man explains. “They’re in the hall. They’d like to see you if you are up to it.”

“Sure,” Blaine says. Maybe if he sees his prep team, he’ll know if he’s actually alive. It’s such an odd idea. He never expected to walk out of the arena alive. He was fourteen, short, and had lived on the streets long enough to know that there was no such thing as luck. Even after the Whitmore's had taken him in for his tesserae, he’d been scrawny and underfed. He’d been sure he’d die at the Cornucopia.

Except, he’s here, and Will, Tina, Quinn and Artie are all here staring at him. Maybe he actually is alive.

Will speaks first. “Blaine,” he says and then stops, like the words wouldn't come. 

Tina squeezes Will’s hand, and then moves forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “You won, Blaine. You’re alive.”

It’s weird, hearing it confirmed like that. “Oh,” he says. He can’t think of anything else to say. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to beauty base zero in no time flat,” Tina continues. “We’ll have the entire Capital swooning at your feet just in time for your party tonight.”

“Party?”

“It’s your birthday, Blaine,” Quinn says quietly. 

“How long have I been unconscious?” he asks. 

“It took them almost a week to fix your leg, but you’ll be able to walk just fine,” Artie says, and Blaine can’t help but stare at Artie’s wheelchair while he explains about the surgeries and the damage the rockslide had done.

***

There are parties and interviews and a visit to every District before Will and Blaine take the train home. The District is proud of him, but they don’t love him like they love Will. Will doesn't have a family, not for as long as Blaine can remember. Blaine has Cooper, but that isn't really the same as having a family. They hadn't even interviewed him during the Games, and no one tracks him down to interview him now. 

Everyone wants to interview Blaine. He picks the piano as his talent, not willing to sing for the cameras. Instead he plays haunting melodies the ghost across the ivory keys, and waits. 

It feels like he’s stuck, playing the piano for people who don’t really care, waiting for the train to take him somewhere new. 

There’s a Reaping first, a sixteen year old girl and an eleven year old boy. Will is their mentor, but Blaine is required to come as well. The train that takes him back to the Capital is a gallows march, and not everyone will be coming back.

***

Blaine comes crashing back into the apartments, mad enough to kick the wall, even though he knows its a stupid idea, and will only make his leg hurt again. 

“You heard from Snow,” Will says.

“You knew?” Blaine replies. He takes a swing at Will’s face, but he’s too angry to aim, and Will just ducks out of the way. 

“I thought they’d wait until after your return party. Usually they do,” Will says with a shrug.

Blaine wants to ask him why he isn't outraged, why he expected this, but it’s clear enough from Will’s face that there is nothing to be done.

“The Games, they never actually end,” Will says, softly, like it might be a comfort. Blaine turns and walks away.

***

Most of the other victors are there. Rachel and Jesse, who are dancing together, both higher than kites. He’s not sure the last time either of them have been sober or apart. Santana is glaring at people in the corner. The gossipfeeds say she’s taken up with someone from her prep team, but Blaine’s beginning to wonder if anything the news says reflects reality at all. It seems like pretty lies now, stories to keep donations rolling in and the Districts quiet.

Will has talked Sharon out onto the dance floor, and they are doing a passable two step. He kept his Tribute alive last year, but now there are two more locked away in the training center, and he looks just as exhausted as the rest of the mentors. Blaine looks around for anyone else he might know. There are a few other victors, ones whose Games he remembers, and some who were before his time. Finn is perusing the buffet and Sue is hiding in the shadow, back to the wall, looking like she’s expecting to have to kill everyone in the room with only her bare hands. It wouldn't be the first time, and Blaine doesn't blame her at all. Every time someone gets too close to him, he can only think about the best ways to kill them before they kill him.

The lights dim, and the music drops out as the President appears on the vid screen, larger than life. Blaine doesn't listen, doesn't want the congratulations, the accolades. Can’t listen to the anticipation, the pomp and circumstance that envelope the execution to come. He just wants to go home. He only notices that it is over, because Sebastian has curled himself around Blaine in an unwelcome greeting.

Sebastian is smooth and shallow, just like everything else in the Capital. When he touches Blaine, Blaine wants to lean away, to run, to grab a knife off the buffet, anything. He doesn't though. That’s the worst part of winning the Games, it makes you a survivor. Makes you a survivor, even when other things might be more important, even when to survive is to hurt yourself. 

Blaine keeps them at the party as long as he can, but Sebastian is in charge tonight and so when he finally pulls Blaine towards the doors, he goes without complaint. He can do this, he can spend one night making some rich kid happy, so no one dies. 

Sebastian Smythe is one of the wealthiest men in the Capital. He stays off the vidfeeds, mostly, but the President assured Blaine that his power was far flung none the less. Blaine does what is asked of him, and his District is feed and his brother stays alive. He doesn't, and well, an extra example of what defying the Capital gets you can always be arranged. 

***

Will is waiting for him, when he comes home. He hands Blaine two pain killers and a bottle of water before even saying hello. 

Blaine wants to punch him in the face again, but he wants the painkillers more. He wants painkillers, wants boozes, wants drugs, wants anything that’ll numb his mind as much as it numbs his body. 

“Do you need patching up?” Will asks, eyes quickly checking for blood and bruises. That’s when Blaine notices them. Jesse is curled around Rachel, his bloody back being tended to by soft spoken Emma. Rachel doesn't even look like she knows what is happening. She’s either high or in shock or maybe both. Jesse, though, when Blaine catches Jesse’s eye, he knows that Jesse doesn't have anything in his system beyond what Will just handed him. He’s stone sober, and so broken that Blaine has to look away.

He shakes his head no, and suddenly he’s not mad at Will anymore, not furious that his mentor couldn't stop this. Instead, Blaine is mad at everything. He’s mad at the President, at the Capitol, at whoever took a whip to Jesse St. James’ back until it bled, at the Games, and at everyone who has ever cheered for one. He wants to set fire to something, to scream, to destroy, but what would that do? 

Instead, he sits next to Jesse and hands Emma clean gauze from the medical kit as she continues her work silently. “This is what it will be like?” Blaine asks. “If Sunshine or Kurt walk out of the Games?”

“I’ll still be here,” Will offers, and Blaine realizes it’s the only thing Will has left to give.


End file.
